


four moments with you

by spheeris1



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, each title a lyric from a song, just randomly hit me this morning, tiny vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 10:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spheeris1/pseuds/spheeris1
Summary: villanelle, eve, eve, villanelle p.o.v. // Four moments - beginning, middle, possible end - written during the length of four different songs





	four moments with you

/ / /

_[stay where you are and no one gets hurt]_

It's bright and beautiful, the way she moves without thinking. You could watch her forever. You want to, but you know, things to do and shops to hit and people to kill. Life always gets in the way of whatever else you'd like to be doing, doesn't it?

You make a mental note. Hips to ankles, colors and shades, when she smiles and when she frowns. You strain forward all the time, hoping to catch a bit of her voice, the sweet stab of her laughter. You dream of her at night, fingers twitching with wanting to take hold of her – wrists pinned back, strands of her midnight hair wrapped around you, tender where your tongue meets the folds of her skin...

...oh, you've dreamed of her, yes yes you have done so much of that...

You carry the picture of her handiwork, slivers of glass and champagne stains and a pink scar. You understand – kind of, sort of – she can't kiss you yet, too angry, too worked-up, and so she had to touch you the only way she can manage. Shyness is a killer, too.

But even now, slipping past the barriers and gutting the watchers at her gate, bloody as you bound up to her door... even now, you could watch her for forever, wicked and wanting at the window.

And so you do. And so you do.

/ /

 _[all upon her face were the lost and strange years]_

How many times will you both stand here, weapons drawn and threats made, so close but never close enough?

She's been hurt. This much you know. She's been hurt and, boy, how she has hurt others. She's smarter than you – in a sense – but you've outmatched her more often than not. You know she hates it, you know she loves it, too. But she's good with a gun. And you are only good with those sharper things.

“Eve, Eve, Eve... this is getting really dull...”

Oh, you agree, you say as much or you shake your head, a nod of realization, and she smiles at you; she smiles at you and it is gorgeous and it is horrible and if you could save this moment – before it is ruined, before it all falls apart – you'd tattoo it to your body, every syllable, every look.

Close. But never close enough.

And you sigh. And you smile back, tired... always so tired... and whatever you were planning or hoping for just clatters to the ground and she doesn't trust you and you don't trust her... but you cannot imagine trusting anyone more and maybe... maybe she feels the same way...

Her smile deepens. Your own heartbeat slows down.  
Her steps are measured. Your blood grows hot.  
And her lips are softer than sunlight. And the agony is darker than night falling.

Close... but never close enough...

/ /

_[your face is suddenly all I can see]_

It's angry and it is wild; it's breathless and it is unbearably stunning. 

You let it happen. You let it happen after so damn long, after chasing and lying and wounding, after fear and faltering, after everything...

...she is a palm to your stomach, a gasp of air against your throat, sweat you taste and flesh you eagerly mark, she moves over you, inside of you, against you, and you let it happen, weary with running and desperate to know every inch of her, and you let it happen, your lives overlapping just a bit more, the crashing of lips and the bumping of knees, love like a bruise you both cannot stop pressing, desire a bee buzzing around your heads...

You let it happen. After all this time. And it is angry, it is wild, breathless and stunning – unbearably so – and she is everywhere now, every place you kept separate is now up for grabs, and you let it happen.

You let it happen, again and again, in a million different ways.

/ /

_[can I take you home?]_

You wonder what it would be like to have someone around, like all the time, their hair on your pillow and their scent in the sheets, so much so that you feel them everywhere. They would be a reflection in the mirror after your bath, they would be soy milk in your refrigerator, they'd be the coat hanging next to yours at the door.

A hand to hold during a movie. A mouth to kiss at any time. A pair of legs for you to part.

And maybe you've made your money, maybe you've impressed enough people, it could be that you are done with this life and ready for a new one. Maybe you've stared into the abyss and seen the shadows overtake so many gazes, maybe you are bored and just want to stop – for a while, for a long long while.

“If I quit, would you come with me?”  
“What?”  
“You heard me. Don't be coy.”  
“I'm not being coy, dick.”

Oh, she makes you laugh. Not on purpose most times, but she is hilarious all the same. Hilarious and quite clever. Too clever sometimes and she gets all cocky, that's when you like to mess up her plans and theories and watch her expression go from sure to annoyed. But you like her, you like her more than anyone, and that's saying something because most people are just that: people. Faceless, nameless, boring as fuck.

“Can you quit? Is that an option for someone like you?”  
“I can do whatever I want.”  
“Is that so?”

She doesn't believe you. Fine. You'll prove it to her. You'll make the calls, you'll erase the past and burn all the paths that they could follow. You'll tear it down and leave it to rot. You'll disappear and take her with you. The two of you could start a whole new life, on a beach or up a mountain, drinking fine red wine and leaving the kitchen a disaster and having sex all night.

And then she'd see. You're not a dick; you are amazing.

She runs a hand over her face, partially dressed and still warm to the touch, and she looks at you like you are crazy and oh, she is perfect, so absolutely perfect.

“Are you serious? Like, honest to god, you want to... quit?”

And you kiss her. And then you shrug your shoulders.

“If you come with me, then I am serious.”

And you kiss her again. and you wonder what it would be like to wake up to this face for the rest of your life.  
And you don't mind the thought. You don't mind it at all.

/ / /

**(end)**

**Author's Note:**

> 'Saved By A Waif' by Alvvays  
> 'This Time Around' by Jessica Pratt  
> 'Annemarie' by Suzanne Vega  
> 'Can't Find My Heart' by Broken Social Scene
> 
> All mistakes are mine. Thanks for reading!


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